


I Bet You

by Mony (Mony_Writes)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, domestic!sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mony_Writes/pseuds/Mony
Summary: Spot has a little problem with swearing. And there's nothing a bet hasn't solved for Race.----Just a short fluffy piece. There's lot of swearing, you are warned.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk/prompt me over on my Tumblr @wide-eyed--wonderer !! And, as always comments/feedback are welcomed and appreciated!!

“Fuckity fucking shitballs” Race looks up from his spot in the living room, try to cut the music for his baby ballet kids.

“You ok in there Spottie?” He calls. 

“Yeah, just spilt some coffee on my shirt.” With a huff, Race gets up to go and assess the damage. 

He loves him, but Spot is a clingy baby if he’s hurt. 

“Was it hot?” Race asked as he walked toward the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw his fiance. “Sweetie. That’s iced coffee. And you’re in your PJs.” 

“And?” 

“There was absolutely no reason for you to be swearing like a sailor.” Race shakes his head at his fiancé. 

“I ruined this shirt.” Spot complained. Race looks at the shirt. 

“It has a hole in it.” Race deadpanned. He shook his head at his idiot. “You know, if you swear around Jackie and Kath’s kid like that, they're never gonna let us babysit. That will not happen Spottie. I will be the kids favourite uncle.” 

“Good luck,” Spot scoffs, “you’re competing with Charlie”

“That’s my point Spottie! I’ll never have a chance if we don’t babysit the kid, which Jack and Kath will never let us do if you don’t stop swearing” 

“I can control myself, Race.” Race shot him a look, he had never seen Spot control his language in his life. “I just choose not to, because you're a mature adult and can handle a swear word.” Spot continued, ignoring Race.

He certainly did not believe his fiance. But, he really wanted to babysit that kid. But if there’s one thing Race is good at, it’s betting. 

“Let’s bet on it.” 

“What?” 

“I bet you can’t go 24 hours without swearing” Spot cocked his head, clearly interested in Races proposition. It was a win-win for Race, Spot wins, Race can be sure that he won’t swear in front of the baby, Races wins and, “Loser cooks the winner their favourite dinner tomorrow night.” 

“Done.” 

——-

“Thanks for dinner Spottie.” Race smiled sweetly. 

“Fuck off Race.” 

“Smells delicious.” Race was enjoying this. 

“You're the actual fucking worst.” 

“See this is why you lost the bet Spottie.” Race shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you swore in front of Jack and Kath when they were showing you the ultrasound photos.”

“I fucking hate you so much” 

“Love you too Spottie.”


	2. Swearing for a Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by @Firecracker_Newsie who commented on chapter 1 with a prompt-based off chapter one of this, and now here we are!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk/prompt me over on my Tumblr @wide-eyed--wonderer !! And, as always comments/feedback are welcomed and appreciated!!

All in all, it’d been a pretty typical day. 

Spot’s alarm had gone off early, and with a grumble that it was “too fucking early for this shit,” he got out of bed.

Race got up about 40minutes later, well and truly after Spot had left the house. It was one of Race’s rare days off, so he spent the day lounging about their apartment until Spot came home about 2 and after a brief kiss and exchange lasting of about two sentences,

(“How was work sweetheart”

“Fucking terrible hun”)

Spot made his way into the kitchen, to get what Race would assume is a post-work, I’ve worked really hard, snack.

“Shit shit FUCK SHIT” Race sighed.

“I thought we said you were going to work on swearing less Spottie?”

“Not fucking now Race holy shit” 

“Sweetie,” Race said, moving into the kitchen, “you really do need to - HOLY SHIT.” Race ran over to his fiance, who had somehow spilt hot coffee over his arm, and was already starting to blister. Race turned on the tap. “Put your hand under here now Spottie.” Race, whose first aid training was kicking in, pulled a pair of scissors and cling wrap out of the draw. 

“Hope you didn’t like this shirt too much Spottie.”

“Race what the fuck are you doing??”

“Do you want this shirt to get stuck to the burn?”

“Of course fucking not”

“Then shut up and let me help you.”

Race cut of the shirt sleeve and wrapped the now blistered burn in cling wrap. 

“Right I’ll get my phone and keys, you get in the car.”

“Race, calm down love-”

“I will not fucking calm down, I don’t care what your macho ego says, we are getting this burn checked at the hospital.”

“I really don’t think that -”

“All burns larger than a coin requires medical attention, and” Race looks at Spots arm, which is covered in a burn from his wrist to his elbow, “that's definitely bigger than a coin sweetie.”

“I still don’t think that..”

“Spottie,” Race sighed. He knew that Spot wasn't a fan of hospitals. “Please, for me?”

Race held Spots gaze until he backed down (it didn’t take long once Race turned on his ‘wounded puppy’ look)

“Only for you hun.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”


End file.
